


Wrecked

by Setaeru



Series: Honey Whiskey [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Cock Slut Dean, Dom/sub, Gags, High School Student Dean, M/M, Orgasm Control, Pet Names, Professor Castiel, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Spanking, Twink Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-23 07:12:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11984802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setaeru/pseuds/Setaeru
Summary: "Even in the face of punishment, you still insist on teasing me,” Castiel says, clucking his tongue like he’s disappointed. “Well, no matter...”---------------------Dean visits Castiel in his office at the university.





	Wrecked

**Author's Note:**

> it just happened ok dont look at me like that gosh darn. and like ok u cant judge me alright yall know im rly bad at titles. ill try to edit this later bc i know its hella bad and rough but for now...... well..... suck it up ;) if u find something hella wrong tell me and ill fix it up asap!!
> 
> *hides in a corner* lets just ignore that the tense changed from the first fic. ok? ok. pls enjoy, much thank

A soft knock falls on his office door.

Absently, Castiel glances around his office, eyes darting over every surface. They’re all littered with loose sheets of paper, folders, books, notes, pens, pencils. “Come in,” he calls, settling his gaze on his closed office door. It opens, and a head pops in nervously. Eyes dart around the room before settling on Castiel. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, shooting him a shy smile. He opens the door fully and steps into the room, kicking it shut behind himself. He shuffles further into the room. “You busy?” Dean’s green eyes slide over to him, curious and warm. Something nags at him in the back of his head, but he can’t remember what so Castiel shakes his head, pushing his chair away from his desk with an easy smile.

Dean walks over to his desk, dropping a backpack onto the floor beside it. He smoothly drops into his lap, legs astride over his, the backs of his knees on the armrests. It doesn’t seem very comfortable but Dean is pleased and slumps against him, nuzzling his nose into Castiel’s throat. “What’s up?” Castiel asks lowly, wrapping his arms around Dean’s back, tugging him closer and pressing a kiss to his head. Dean wiggles a little in his arms and hums softly, mouthing at the stubble coating the underside of his chin.

“Missed you,” he mumbles, sounding nervous and ashamed of the confession. Castiel tightens his grip on Dean and presses another kiss to his head, pressing his nose to his hair and breathing deeply. He smells like shampoo and something purely Dean.

“I missed you too, princess,” Castiel replies softly, smiling to himself when Dean whines shyly at the nickname. He presses a kiss to Dean’s temple, trailing butterfly kisses down the side of his face and to his lips. He kisses him softly, nipping gently at his bottom lip and sucking the appendage into his mouth. Dean lets out a low moan and grips his shoulders tightly, tongue flicking out of his mouth as Castiel pulls his head back, letting the younger man’s bottom lip slide out from between his teeth.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean says, blinking almost sleepily at him. “Come on. Kiss me.” Dean presses their lips together almost desperately, sliding his tongue into Castiel’s mouth. Castiel groans deep in his throat and drags his hands down Dean’s back, grabbing one ass cheek in each hand and squeezing tightly. Dean whimpers into his mouth, and he greedily swallows the noise, feeling his cock thicken as Dean jerks his hips.

A sharp, heavy knock lands on the door.

They both freeze, pulling back slowly to stare at each other. Castiel lets go of Dean’s ass, and settles his hands on his hips instead. The person behind the door knocks again, and says, “Dr. Novak? Are you in there?” Hannah, his student. Castiel curses softly, suddenly remembering that he booked a study session with one of his students.

He clears his throat. “Just a second, Hannah.” He nudges Dean off his lap, and stands up, adjusting his suit. His suit pants do nothing to hide his erection, and he sighs softly. Dean shakes his head and reaches his hands forward, adjusting his tie and dress shirt and blazer, fixing his hair for him. When he’s done, he steps back to look him over. “Go sit on the couch,” he whispers to Dean.

Dean eyes him for a second, then smirks and shakes his head. “No,” he whispers back. He nudges Castiel to sit back down in his chair, and drags his backpack around the desk so it’s out of sight. He crawls under Castiel’s heavy oak desk, settles his knees on the foot rest Castiel keeps under there. It’s gel, black, soft, and looks like half a cylinder. He drags Castiel further under the desk and settles his hands on Castiel’s thighs.

He wonders what Dean is up to, but he knows that it’s been at least three minutes since he told Hannah to wait. “Come in, Hannah,” he calls, brushing a hand down the front of his tie. He hopes he looks presentable. Hannah turns the handle and pushes the door open, stepping into the room with a sweet smile. “Please, have a seat.” Hannah shuts the door softly and walks over to the two chairs in front of his desk, pulling one closer and sitting down. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you, Dr. Novak?” Hannah asks, cheeks looking pink.

“G-” Dean’s hands slide up his thighs and slowly, carefully begin to undo his belt. He clenches his hands on the desk and forces a bright smile. “I’m good, Hannah. Thank you. Please take your books out and-” he swallows dryly as Dean begins to pull his belt out of the loops in his pants. “-and open them.” Hannah does as he instructed, and Castiel takes a second to reach under the desk and grip Dean’s wrists tightly. Dean flicks his hands away and sets his belt down on the floor silently.

He peeks up at Castiel from under the desk, a wicked gleam in his sour apple green eyes. Castiel feels his cock twitch and quickly looks away, staring at Hannah as she flips through her pages. Dean unbuttons his pants, lowers his zipper painfully slowly. He opens his pants as wide as he can and tugs at his boxer-briefs, wrapping his hand around Castiel’s cock and pulling it out of his underwear. Castiel inhales sharply when his cock bumps against the cool underside of his desk, which earns him a glance from Hannah. He smiles blandly and clears his throat.

Dean uses both of his hands to massage his cock gently, his hands barely wrap around his cock, and even then, Castiel just knows that there’s a space between his fingers and thumbs. Dean brings him to full hardness before tentatively licking the tip of his cock. “Dr. Novak?” Hannah asks.

“Huh?” Castiel blinks and focus his gaze on her. “Yes?”

“Can we go over the quiz from last class? I’m still find of fuzzy on it.”

“Yes, of course,” Castiel says quickly. He reaches under the desk and slides his hand into Dean’s hair, inhaling and exhaling slowly, trying to find a level of calm. “Get that out, and we’ll, ah, go over it.” Castiel shifts in his seat, curling his toes as he tries desperately not to move his hips. Dean teasingly mouths at the head of his cock, saliva dripping down the length.

Dean wraps his lips around the head of Castiel’s cock and sucks firmly. Castiel tightens his hand in Dean’s hair and tenses his thighs, grinding his teeth as he holds back a moan of delight and surprise. Hannah shoots him a curious look but doesn’t say anything regarding his weird behavior.

It’s going to be a long thirty minute study session.

* * *

“And Hannah,” Castiel says, warm, if a little strained, “please lock the door on your way out.”

“Sure thing, Dr. Novak,” Hannah says cheerfully. Dean feels dread building in his belly as he hears the familiar soft click of a lock and the shut of a door.

Castiel is quick and strong. He rolls his chair back and his cock slides out of Dean’s mouth, he grabs Dean by his biceps and yanks him out from under the desk and to his feet. Castiel stands up along with him, pressing him against the edge of the desk, his right hand gripping Dean’s face tightly and his left hand cupping the back of his head; Castiel’s eyes are blazing. Dean’s dick twitches as he takes in the anger evident in his expression, and he shivers.

“Naughty little thing, aren’t you? You think you can tease me and get away with it?” Castiel growls, harsh and heated. Dean whimpers quietly and licks his saliva-coated lips, curling his toes in his shoes. Castiel drops his hands, stepping back and tucking his cock back into his underwear and pants. He does the button and zipper up on his pants, then reaches up and tugs at his tie, pulling the smooth silk-soft black cloth from under the collar of his shirt. He grabs Dean’s jaw again, and taps his lips with his index finger. Dean shakes his head.

“I’m going to gag you, and then I’m going to spank you, naughty boy,” Castiel drawls, dark and hot.

“Come on then, old man,” Dean rasps, grinning at Castiel. “Put your money where your mouth is.” Castiel chuckles heatedly.

“I certainly intend to, princess,” he says. Dean feels his knees weaken. “Open.”

Dean’s face warms up, but he obediently opens his mouth, gripping the edge of the desk as Castiel shoves his tie deep into his mouth and ties it around the back of his head. He tugs at Dean’s clothes and shoes until they’re off and tossed to the floor, then bends him over the desk and presses his crotch against the seat of Dean’s ass. Castiel leans over him, pressing him almost painfully into the unmoving wood of the desk. He presses his lips to Dean’s ear, his breath hot against the shell. And suddenly drops a hard, unforgiving smack to the side of his right ass cheek.

Dean yelps around his gag and tenses, thighs trembling as he feels the smack practically echo through his whole body. “I’m going to make a mess of you yet, boy,” Castiel promises in his ear. Dean can’t resist the temptation of rolling his hips back against Castiel and feeling his gloriously thick cock rub between his bare ass cheeks. “Even in the face of punishment, you still insist on teasing me,” Castiel says, clucking his tongue like he’s disappointed. “Well, no matter...”

Castiel straightens himself and slides a hand into Dean’s hair, gripping his light brown locks with firm fingers. Castiel’s other hand, his right hand, rubs firmly over Dean’s bare ass, nails scraping over his exposed flesh, palm dropping soft, barely felt smacks. Dean’s groin presses into the desk, and it’s almost painful, but he’s distracted by the throbbing in his scalp. Castiel cups each cheek in his hand, and hums lowly, approvingly. Dean holds his breath as Castiel pulls his hand away, and tenses his body. Nothing comes. A sound creeps out of Dean’s throat, a low whine of anticipation, needy and demanding and desperate.

A sharp, resounding smack lands across his ass, the strength behind it driving his hips into the edge of the desk. He chokes on a noise, and feels his eyes widen impossibly. Dean grips the edge of the desk farthest from his hips and arches his back, pressing his ass back towards Castiel’s hand. Dean’s legs quiver, and another, unrelenting and harsh smack lands on his upper right thigh. It’s followed by an equally severe slap to his upper left thigh, and then one on each cheek. There’s a pattern now, and Castiel is remorseless in his punishment. Dean’s eyes glaze over with tears, and his erection wanes, but it’s not enough to even be considered anything but, at the very least, a half-hard cock. Castiel is ruthless as he spanks him over and over and over _and over_ , forcing noises from Dean’s throat.

Dean bristles when the hand in his hair finally loosens, and fingers massage gently at his aching scalp. A hot, large hand presses gently against the middle of his ass, and he whimpers around a few pants. Castiel slides his hand from his ass to his hip, and presses up against his burning thighs and ass. He leans over Dean’s back, bracing himself on an elbow, and presses a kiss to the nape of his neck. It’s soft and kind and makes his stomach flutter with shyness and delight; it feels stark in contrast to the painful throbbing in his ass.

“Are you with me?” Castiel asks, careful, hesitant. Dean nods, blinking and trying to clear his gaze. He tilts his head back, looking over his shoulder and locking eyes with Castiel. He looks concerned, but there’s still that sharpness behind his worry. Dean drops his head back down onto the desk and closes his eyes. Castiel pulls away from him and tugs him up to stand straight. Dean opens his eyes as he’s turned around to face Castiel. “I still have plans for you, princess,” Castiel says, grinning wickedly.

Dean moans and his eyes droop shut. He leans forward, tucking his face into Castiel’s collars and reaching unsteady hands out to grip him tightly. Castiel slides a hand into his hair, massaging his still painful scalp gently. Castiel’s other hand moves down and cups his cock, squeezing him lightly. “Still hard for me, aren’t you?” Castiel coos in his ear. Dean rocks his hips forward, swallowing a noise. “Yeah... Good boy.”

Castiel massages his cock with a certain hand, slowly but surely edging him closer to an orgasm. Dean moans into his shoulder, the noise muffled by the gag in his mouth, and hesitantly rolls his hips into the pressure of Castiel’s hand. The older man doesn’t pull away, but instead encourages his movements by pressing a hand against his lower back. Dean gasps quietly, rocking on the balls of his feet, eyes falling tightly shut as he feels a familiar coiling sensation in his lower abdomen and his balls drawing up.

“Cas,” he tries to say around the gag. It comes out as muffled, jumbled mess, but Castiel still makes a noise of acknowledgment, tilting his head towards him. Dean groans, low and deep and long, and jerks his hips desperately as he comes into Castiel’s hand. Castiel massages the head of his cock with his palm and fingers, collecting every drop of come.

Dean slumps against him, breathing hard, and feels his thighs quiver as Castiel lets go of his cock, fingers brushing over a sensitive spot as he does. His hand brushes between Dean’s legs, rubbing against his balls, forcing him to spread his feet farther apart. Two wet fingers press against his asshole and perineum, and it takes Dean’s fuzzy brain a second to realize that those fingers are wet with his own come. He moans helplessly, arching his back and gripping at Castiel’s shirt tighter.

Castiel pushes one finger in him slowly, twisting it around teasingly, hooking the digit and grazing just beside his prostate. Dean whimpers softly, clenching around him. He forces his body to relax quickly when he feels Castiel’s second finger begin pressing against his hole, and holds his breath as it slides in deep along side the first. It doesn’t burn because he already stretched himself before coming here, but it feels so dirty, his own come being used as lubrication.

Dean rocks back onto his fingers, letting out a heavy breath, and panting into Castiel’s shirt as he moves. Castiel chuckles, low and filthy, right in his ear. The noise makes Dean’s stomach clench tightly and his ass flutter around the digits inside his hole. Castiel’s hand moves away from his lower back, but it’s quick to reappear in the form, dropping a heavy and heart-stopping smack to his throbbing backside. Dean sobs softly around the tie, eyes glazing with fresh tears. His cock shamefully twitches and starts hardening again, the residual tingles from the smack igniting a fire in his aching balls.

He lifts his head, blinking more than necessary, and stares up at Castiel. His eyes drop to the man’s lips and he whines softly, leaning forward a little. He wants to kiss him, he wants to feel Castiel’s lips on his own, his tongue in Dean’s mouth. Castiel’s deft fingers tug at the knot behind Dean’s head, the two ends of the tie fall down on Dean’s shoulders a moment later. Castiel pulls the makeshift gag from his mouth, tossing it onto the floor carelessly.

Dean’s eyes start dropping shut as he leans forward more. “Kiss me,” he mumbles, lips and face too wet, mouth too dry. Castiel hums low and complies, pressing an almost chaste kiss to his slightly parted lips, while also twisting his fingers inside of Dean’s ass and grazing his prostate. Dean inhales sharply, loudly, eyes opening wide to stare into Castiel’s teasing blue eyes. “You-”

“Ah, ah,” Castiel interrupts, taunting, “Think before you speak,” he reminds, a grin turning his lips up. “Wouldn’t want your plump little ass paying the price for your smart mouth, would we, honey?” Dean snaps his jaw shut and grits his teeth, glaring at him because fuck, of course he would know Dean was going to say something mean. Castiel’s features soften and he presses another kiss to Dean’s lips, nipping gently at the bottom one and sliding his tongue into Dean’s mouth.

Dean can’t help the moan that escapes him, or the way he moves up onto the tips of his toes and wraps his arms around Castiel’s neck, tugging him closer somehow. A third finger makes it’s way into his ass as the kiss gets deeper and dirtier, all tongue and teeth. Castiel wraps his arm around Dean’s waist, and twists his fingers inside of him, pressing insistently on his prostate. Dean chokes on a noise, and feels his legs tremble.

His cock twitches and throbs and he can’t help the desperate, loud noises that spill from his throat. Castiel swallows each noise almost greedily, barely letting him breathe as he devours and maps the inside of his mouth. Dean slides the fingers of his right hand into Castiel’s hair, and grips the soft, messy dark brown locks tightly. Dean rips his mouth away from Castiel’s and tucks his face in his neck, sucking sloppy, desperate, soft pink marks that immediately start fading into all the bare skin he can find.

Castiel tightens the arm around his waist, bringing his lower body flush against his. “Oh, fuck,” Dean whispers as his cock finds a firm, solid place to press up against. He’s at an angle, so Castiel can still finger him, hand between Dean’s thighs. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and clenches tightly around the fingers in his ass, gasping for air as he comes messily all over the front of Castiel’s dress shirt. He trembles all over, holding onto him tightly as he rides the aftershocks of his orgasm, Castiel’s fingers milking him, rubbing over his prostate, taking every last drop of come.

“Sorry,” he mutters, throat feeling raw. Castiel loosens his grip on him, carefully pulls his fingers out of him, and Dean releases his grip as well. He feels gratitude as Castiel’s strong, sure hands grasp his hips and keep him upright on weak legs. Then whines as the older man guides him to bend over the desk again. Castiel sits down in his chair, rolling it closer to Dean. He spreads Dean’s legs wide, and Dean’s eyes roll back into his head as Castiel parts his cheeks and licks a long, wide stripe from behind his balls to the cleft of his ass. “Pl-please, Cas. Don- Ngh,”

“Don’t, what, princess?” Castiel drawls, pressing a kiss to one of Dean’s sore ass cheeks. “You don’t want me to make you feel good?” Dean lets out a pitiful noise, crossing his arms on the desk and burying his face in them. “Tell me what you want.”

“... fuck me,” Dean mumbles.

“What was that?” Castiel asks, standing up and pressing the front of his pants against Dean’s throbbing ass. He hisses, toes curling, and feels his face heat up with more than just physical exertion. “Speak up. I want to hear you.”

Dean growls quietly to himself and lifts his head, glaring over his shoulder at Castiel. “I want you to fuck me, old man,” he snaps. “That loud enough for you?” Castiel raises an eyebrow and responds by stepping back and dropping five consecutive, unforgiving smacks to his unprotected ass. Dean turns his head away, and grips the edge of the desk, letting out a soft breath.

“I don’t appreciate your tone, boy,” Castiel says, clucking his tongue. “Try that again.” He keeps his mouth shut, which just annoys Castiel. He yelps when a hand pulls at his hair and yanks him up to his feet, spinning him around like he’s a doll. Castiel tilts his head far back enough that Dean’s forced to stare him in the eyes. His scalp still tingles from earlier, and his eyes sting with unshed tears. “Now,” Castiel drawls, “what do you want?”

Dean swallows, throat dry, and shuffles on his feet. He suddenly feels nervous, shy, now that he’s staring the older man in the eye. “I want you to fuck me, sir,” he says softly, just above a whisper. “Please.” Dean bites his bottom lip and feels his cheeks flush. Castiel loosens his grip on Dean’s hair, fingers soothing his pulsing scalp. Dean ducks his head, staring down at the, now crusted, mess he made on Castiel’s shirt. His gaze drifts lower to the obscene bulge in Castiel’s suit pants, and he moans inwardly when he sees the wet patches from pre-cum and when Dean’s ass was pressed to his crotch.

“Good boy,” Castiel praises warmly. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Dean shakes his head. He tentatively reaches his hand out and cups Castiel through his pants, squeezing him gently. Castiel moans softly and Dean feels his own cock throb and twitch in response to the noise. “Come here, princess,” Castiel whispers, tugging him closer and nudging him to bend over the desk. He leans over him, rolling his hips and grinding his cock against Dean’s ass. “I’m going to rim you until you come for me, baby, and then,” Castiel pauses for a brief second, letting out a shuddering breath. “Then I’m going to fuck you.” Dean whimpers as he registers his words, and nods weakly, slumping down on the desk and spreading his legs.

Castiel stops moving his hips and stands up straight, stepping back from Dean and sitting down in his chair again. Dean lifts up onto his forearms and turns his head to look at Castiel. The man shoots him a wink and then drops his eyes to Dean’s hole, spreading his cheeks apart for a better view. He carefully slides both of his index fingers inside of Dean, his hole fluttering around the digits. Dean drops his head between his forearms as Castiel leans forward and licks over his hole, spreading him open and flicking the tip of his tongue inside.

Dean yelps as it slides in, surprised, and fumbles to grab the edge of the desk for purchase. Castiel laughs from behind him, and pull his fingers out, lapping at his fluttering hole with his tongue. Dean squeezes his eyes shut, his body quivering from being over stimulated, his swollen cock dripping out pre-cum like a faulty tap.

“Cas,” he groans, unable to resist pushing back on his wicked tongue. “Want your cock,” he starts rambling as Castiel’s tongue starts lapping at his perineum, lips creating a suction against the spot. “Want it so bad. Want- Wanna feel full- stuffed full. Wanna- wanna feel it tomorrow, and the-the day after and- and, ngh... whole week. Wanna feel it all week, old man. Wanna feel every in-inch. Want you to- to fuck me so hard- I- Holy-!” Castiel’s hands grip his sore ass cheeks tightly, his stubble creating a burning sensation against his rim. Dean sucks in air harshly. “Want you to make me come on your cock. _Please._ Oh my- G-god. Cas. Ah, god, Cas- C’mon, old man, please. _Please, Castiel!_ ”

Castiel suddenly pulls away from his ass, kissing a trail up his sweat-dampened spine to his ear. He bites the lobe with a guttural noise, humping against Dean’s ass. “Filthy fucking thing, aren’t you?” Castiel snarls, reaching down between their bodies and yanking roughly at his pants. "So needy." He unbuttons it, shoving his slacks and boxers down to his ankles and pressing his cock insistently against Dean’s slick hole. Dean arches his back as he slides in, his rim burning as he’s stretched around Castiel’s fat dick.

“Feels good, feels good, feels go-od,” Dean cries out, clenching around him tightly. Castiel hisses against his nape, holding onto his hips with bruising strength.

“Need you to relax, baby,” he whispers, voice strained and full of desire. “Fuck. You’re so tight,” he mumbles, panting against Dean’s back. Castiel releases his grip on Dean’s hips and slides his hands up the sides of his body, gentle and soothing, slowly calming him enough to loosen up around his cock. Enough for Castiel to slide in the rest of the way with only a little resistance. “Gorgeous,” Castiel breathes, sucking a mark into Dean’s shoulder.

Castiel stays still, hips and thighs pressed flush against Dean’s body, his cock pulsing inside of his ass. “So big,” Dean says, trembling and feeling smaller than he is caged under Castiel’s firm, insanely warm body. He feels like he’s been speared on Castiel’s cock and he loves it. Castiel rolls his hips, pulling out just a few centimeters, pressing back in. Dean holds his breath, toes curling into the cool hard floor, legs shuffling open wider. Castiel lifts his abdomen off of Dean, and tugs Dean’s arms behind his back, pressing his chest down into the desk, crossing his wrists over each other on his lower back. He grips his wrists tightly, and slowly slides his cock out almost to the tip, teasing him with a few movements back and forth.

Castiel makes a soft, thoughtful noise from behind him, then pulls his cock out completely and steps back, letting go of his wrists. Dean can’t help the protest the begins to fall from his lips, or the way he forces himself up and spins around to glare at Castiel. He gets an amused smile in return, and watches as Castiel crouches down and picks up his belt from the floor. He stands up and stares at it, a wicked gleam darkening his already scheming gaze. “Bend over,” he orders, turning a steely gaze to Dean.

Dean bristles. “You are not hitting me with that.”

“I’m not,” Castiel agrees, expression softening for just a moment. “Trust me.” Dean hesitates for a second, gaze flickering between Castiel’s eyes and the belt, then turns his face away and bends over the desk. Castiel lines his cock back up with his hole and slides all the way in with little effort. Dean hums appreciatively under his breath, and clenches tightly around him. He tenses up as he feels Castiel sliding the cool leather of the belt under his hips. Dean glances behind himself, watching as Castiel curls the ends around his palms.

Castiel slides out to the tip slowly, and tugging lightly on the belt. Dean’s mind starts to catch up with what he has planned. Before he can say anything, Castiel slams into him while simultaneously yanking him backwards with the belt, hips slapping against Dean’s ass. Dean shoves three fingers into his mouth to try to muffle his scream of surprise, legs giving out as Castiel sets a ruthless pace, pounding in and out of him, pulling him back on each thrust with the belt. His cock swings between his legs, hitting the edge of the desk with each movement.

Dean can already feel the bruises forming on his hips, eyes rolling back as each slide of Castiel’s cock rubs firmly against his prostate. “Com- Come. Gonna-” he gasps, trying to catch his breath and speak. Castiel moans from behind him, and stops using the belt to pull him back. He tosses it to the side carelessly, ignoring the loud clatter it makes as it lands on the floor. He grips his hips tightly and fucks into him with abandon. Dean lets out a cry, coming messily all over the desk and floor. He shakes against the desk, just barely aware as Castiel comes right after him, semen splattering deep inside of him.

Dean hums softly, whining as Castiel slides out of him. He feels too weak to even try to stand up, so he listens quietly as Castiel pulls his pants back up, buttoning and zipping it. Castiel slides his arms under Dean’s chest and tugs him up, holding him close and guiding him over to the couch. Dean feels come trickle out of his hole and roll down his leg, and shudders at the sensation. They drop onto the couch together, Castiel landing first; he doesn’t even make a noise when Dean lands on top of him. Dean snuggles into his chest, shivering as cool air brushes over his heated body.

Castiel tugs a blanket over Dean, tucking it around him and sighing softly. “Clothes,” he slurs down at Castiel with a frown. Castiel chuckles, but then he pushes Dean to the side and slides off the couch. Dean pouts but curls up under the blanket and against the back of the couch, watching with blurry eyes as Castiel collects their things and sets everything on the floor beside Dean. Castiel tucks his tie into his briefcase, pulls his belt on and does it up, blazer following right after.

“Come on, princess,” Castiel says softly, crouching down beside him. “Dress and we can go home.” Dean closes his eyes in response, heart fluttering as he takes a second to think about what a ‘home’ would be like with Castiel. Warm, inviting, safe, grounding; probably everything he’s needed. Reluctantly, Dean sits up, wincing as his body protests. Castiel helps him dress, hands gentle and warm and quite a contrast to their earlier activities.

Castiel fixes up his office a little, then guides Dean to the door, stepping out after him and turning the lights off, locking the door. He guides him to the parking lot outside the building. Dean reluctantly shuffles over to his car, sliding in the front seat with a wince. He follows Castiel home, pulling up in his large driveway fifteen minutes later. He grabs his backpack from the passenger seat and steps out of the car, manually locking the door before shuffling towards the front porch.

Castiel stands by the door, waiting for him. Dean walks right into his chest, dropping his backpack on the porch, wrapping his arms around the older man. “Come on, princess,” Castiel says, chuckling warmly. He picks up Dean’s bag and opens the door, practically waddling inside with Dean still pressed against his chest. Dean grins into his blazer, pressing a small kiss to his shoulder. “Go on upstairs,” Castiel continues. “I’m just going to make sure everything’s locked up. Okay?” Dean pouts, which earns him a sweet smile from Castiel, and heads for the stairs across the front door.

He winces as he walks up them, muscles pulling. He shuffles into Castiel’s bedroom at the end of the hall, flipping the light on, stripping his clothes and dropping them in a pile on the bench at the end of the bed. He pulls the sheets back and crawls into the cool bed, making a soft noise of pleasure as he settles in the middle of the bed. He’s almost asleep when Castiel walks into the room, shutting the door fully behind himself. Dean jolts awake, squinting at the door and frowning as Castiel laughs at him.

“Did you even brush your teeth?” he says, amused.

“No,” Dean mumbles. “C’mere.”

“I-”

“Please.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything, but he does quickly remove his clothes, tossing them carelessly on the bench beside Dean’s. He turns the light off then crawls into bed beside him, letting Dean curl up against his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of Dean’s head, nuzzling against his hair. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes for both of them to fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ i might create more in this 'verse but idk. if yall want me to write something tell me and ill give it a shot (no promises ofc). anyways hope u liked that!!!!!


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